Chapter Six: Burn it Down

Kerihor, Kgnaska

Nori waited anxiously in the main room of the home, alongside a half dozen other people. Everyone was either sick or injured, and all of them awaited their turn to be healed by the medicine woman. It was not an entirely accurate title, but it was what everyone else called the old woman that cured their ills with a wave of blue magic. Nori simply referred to her as a healer. In any case, he was not here for himself, but rather, his daughter, Grace. She was ailed with a terrible cough, one which produced blood, and now, after less than two weeks... Nori looked with troubled eyes to the door, the door that would let his daughter in to be cured, Grace leaning against him, breathing heavily.

The door opened and an over joyous man walked out, whole as could be and praising the gods, a man who had gone in with a broken foot. Nori’s hopes grew a little at the sight of the apparent miracle, he looked down at Grace, her sweat sheened face and matted hair filling his stomach with doubt again. She could heal a foot, yes, but could she cure such a disease? Of course she could, she had to, for his daughter’s sake. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not see the elderly woman standing in front of him, smiling kindly.

“You may enter next, bring the afflicted, and I shall heal her woes.” She said, her voice light, pleasant, soothing. Nori felt as though everything would be alright. He picked up Grace and carried her to the back room.

The room was simpler than Nori had expected, merely a table, a couple chairs, and a tall cupboard on the one wall. The healing woman walked over to the table, brushing the top of it with her aged hand.

“Place the child here.” She said, leaving the table and going over to the cupboard. Nori laid Grace on the table, brushing her hair out of her face. He smiled lovingly as he remembered a time when she was healthy. He kissed her little hand.

“Soon baby, soon.” He whispered to his little girl. The woman walked back to the table, now holding a small wooden box. She placed the box on the table and opened it up to reveal a collection of what appeared to be glowing blue stones or crystals of all different sizes.

“How far along is the affliction?” Asked the woman, rooting through the objects.

“Uh, about two weeks.” Answered Nori, his eyes transfixed on the beautiful jewels.

“Two weeks…” Muttered the old woman. She picked out a crystal that was roughly the size of a cherry, placing it between her hands. The crystal glowed bright, then the blue light moved from the crystal to the elderly healer’s hands, and its own color went dull. The woman dropped the spent crystal on the floor, where it shattered into dust. “Step aside, please.” She said to Nori. Nori looked at her hands, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, but did as he was told.

With closed eyes, the healer put her hands on Grace, humming to herself as she moved them up and down, from her legs, up to her chest, and then her arms, as if searching for something. She brought her hands back to Grace’s chest, nodding slightly. Nori watched in awe as the light glowed brighter in the woman’s hands and then seemed to move from her, to Grace’s chest, causing Grace to glow as bright as a blue sun. Nori shielded his eyes and, after a minute, the light passed. Nori looked at the table again and Grace was sitting up smiling, as healthy as could be. Nori’s eyes filled with tears and he embraced his daughter. He looked at the old woman.

“Thank you, thank you so much. Please, how can I repay you?” The healer just smiled.

“Your daughter’s health is all the payment I need. Now go, go and live happy lives.”

Nori picked up Grace and walked out the door to the main room with a song in his heart. That song quickly died, when the front door to the home burst open, a tired, panting man, standing in the doorway.

“Melcanians… Melcanians are coming!” The man gasped, still out of breath. Nori stood there in the room, looking at the man. He held Grace close, praying to Hileen, to all the gods, that she would be safe.

…

The Melcanians rode into the town with the subtlety of an invading army. At least three dozen riders atop horses clad in black and gold armor, carrying the banners of the empire. At their rear was a single lightning powered siege machine, a large transport model that sacrificed weaponry to make room for more carrying space. The soldier at the front of the collection took off his helmet, looking out at the townspeople that had gathered in a semi circle around their front.

“Attention, people of Kerihor, we are not here to bring harm to you. Cooperate, and you will all receive the Emperor’s mercy.” Said Captain Magnar, pausing before continuing. “That being said, we are looking for an old woman that is said to live in this town. A woman, that many claim, has the ability to cure afflictions with a blue light.” Magnar waited, as if expecting an answer. When he did not receive one, he spoke again. “We know she is here, hiding her will only try the emperor’s patience. Bring her and we will be on our way.” The people murmured amongst themselves, some folding their arms, some shaking their heads, a few discreetly going back inside. Magnar sighed. “Very well.” He motioned to the other riders. “Search the town, find the woman, if anyone resists, you know what to do.”

The soldiers dismounted their horses and began shoving through the crowd, most of the people giving them a wide berth, the ones who did not, got hit. They broke down the doors to every home, every shop, destroying furniture, throwing everything out the windows, dragging people outside and beating them with coshes, all this not because they needed to, but because they wanted to. Finally, after an hour of this atrocity, the soldiers dragged the old healer woman from her home, beating back anyone foolish enough to try and stop them. They forced her to where the Captain sat on his horse, holding her like a prisoner of war. Magnar looked down at her. He pulled a glowing crystal from a pouch on his belt and tossed it to one of the soldiers holding her.

“Place it to her skin.” He ordered. The man placed the crystal against the woman’s neck. Nothing happened at first but then the gem glowed bright and the light passed into the elderly healer’s body, the crystal disintegrating in the soldier’s hand. Magnar nodded, satisfied. “Put her with the rest.” He said, waving them away. The soldiers complied, taking the woman to the back of the siege transport, opening the doors and shoving her inside before slamming it shut again. One of the soldiers walked up to Magnar.

“Sir, what of the town?” Magnar looked out at the broken houses, the bruised and bleeding people.

“Burn it down.” He said quietly, almost to himself. The soldier hesitated.

“I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

“These people refused to cooperate, they harbored a person of interest and showed insufficient respect to their empire and, more importantly, their Emperor. I said. Burn. it. Down.” With that, the captain turned his horse, leading half the soldiers and the siege transport out of the town. As they rode, a growing cloud of smoke rose up in the sky behind them, and the town of Kerihor was no more.

…

The high city of Averynce, shining capital of the grand Melcanian Empire. Covering nearly 200 square miles, and home to over 4 million people, it was by far the largest city in the Northern Continent, nay, all of Divisia. Ringed with walls of dark stone and accented with gold, Averynce had stood proudly for over 800 years, built atop the ruins of the fallen city of Anthos. The massive city was separated into 3 circular districts, each one becoming more exclusive and ostentatious as they got closer to the city’s center.

The Mud District lied outside of the walls, coarsely named to describe the area where the poor were kept. The Trade District was located inside the outer wall, and was where the vast majority of business was conducted, filled with all manner of shops, factories and other such buildings. The Coin District, a 24 square mile circle that rested in the center of the city, guarded by the additional inner wall. The rich and the noble lived in this district, a few hundred, lording over millions within the safety of their walls and the confidence of their mansions. But the grandest quality of this extravagant expanse of stone, of this forest of buildings, was the Tower Keep, an absurdly large tower that stood in the center of the Coin District.

The Tower Keep was a monolithic structure, over 1500 feet in height, taller and larger than any other building ever constructed, it was a standing city. The man made mountain stood as a large collection of many interlocking towers which grew narrower as they rose, until they peaked at the top with one large tower. Within its jeweled halls was a plethora of uses and functions; grandiose apartments reserved for society’s best, the imperial treasury, an airship hangar, the imperial council chamber, to name a few. The greatest of all, however, was the Emperor’s palace, an entirely separate structure built on the very top of the Tower keep, a gloriously constructed castle of glass and marble. It contained the throne room, the emperor’s private sky gardens, the great hall, and of course, spacious living quarters for the grand monarch.

Emperor Alric sat with his advisors in the council chamber, a large room located only a few levels below the palace. The room was nondescript, with only a few banners and a large circular table with an open center to decorate its bland appeal. Alric feigned interest as a dozen advisors talked about the affairs of the empire, but his mind was preoccupied with other thoughts.

Corvus stood by his side, writing notes in a small booklet the man carried with him everywhere, refusing a seat despite there being more than enough room. The smiling foreigner was more at home being the only man on his feet than the dozen purebred Melcanians that sat silently judging him. A comfortable, confident individual that knew that deep down they envied him, hated him for being the Emperor’s chief advisor, him, a foreign swine born outside of nobility. Corvus leaned down to the emperor’s side.

“My Emperor, are you with us? General Kliin is going over the current campaign.” Alric silenced him with a near imperceptible wave of his hand.

“Very well, continue General, this might actually be of interest to me.” General Kliin looked briefly at a document that he had on the table in front of him, then met the emperor’s gaze.

“My Emperor, the campaign in the southern reaches of the empire, particularly the lands of Kgnaska, is going quite well. We have acquired 7 new subjects, in addition to 27 potential subjects in this past month alone. I feel that if we keep our current approach, we could more than triple those numb-”

“What do you mean by potential subjects? I thought there was a way of knowing.” If Kliin was put off by the interruption, he did not show it, but Corvus could still detect the frustration in the old man’s voice.

“We are still not certain exactly how their powers are obtained, the Geargandian alchemists suspect that it could pass on through a person’s lineage, therefore we are also collecting people who are related to confirmed Crystal Borne.” Alric nodded his head absently, not enthralled by the discussion.

“Hmm, I see. And what of resistance? I have heard whispers of dissension among the southward territories.” To this, Kliin merely chortled, unable to contain his amusement.

“Trust me when I say, that anyone who has shown even a modicum of animosity towards the empire, or to you, my Emperor, have been… adequately dealt with.” The general sat back in his chair, images of fire, blood, and the horrors of war, playing whimsically in his head. Alric seemed satisfied by the answer, but one could hardly tell given the man’s perpetual asperity, Corvus had noted that the Emperor’s smile was a rare occurrence.

“Good, good. Well it sounds as though things are in order. Now , if you will excuse me, gentlemen.” Alric pushed his seat out and stood up to leave. Travvis, an advisor over imperial agriculture raised his hand, trying to stay the emperor.

“But, but, my Emperor, we still have many… things to… discuss...” Alric’s icy gaze bored deep into his soul, silencing the timid man.

“I said that this meeting was over, my command, not yours, do not forget your place. Now, I have more pressing matters to attend to. I trust even you can handle the empire’s business without me.” With that Alric left the council chamber, leaving the mildly disgruntled advisors silently bickering to themselves, not daring to voice grievance. Corvus stood there, quietly smirking at the laughable little men around the table, and then took his leave.

…

Alric pushed the grand, eloquently carved doors of black and gold inward, entering the great hall of his palace. The extensive room of dark marble and high, muralled windows was empty, with the exception of 12 young men standing side by side in a line down the length of the room, all wearing loose shirts and pants of a plain, brown coloration. Alric walked in front of them until he reached the center of the room, then turned and silently observed them, holding back an impulsive excitement. They were all Melcanians, pale and black haired, but Alric would have had nothing less, other races being beneath him. Corvus entered the room after the emperor, his arms folded behind his back as he walked to Alric’s side.

“Is the selection to your liking, your grace?” The tactful Geargandian waved his hand to the men, some of which were barely 25 years of age, still boys. Alric nodded distractedly, not paying Corvus much mind. He walked languorously down the line, taking his time as he went over their features, lightly brushing his hand over some of their faces or chests as he passed them. He stopped in front of one of the young men, a boy of about 30 years of age, with short black hair, and soft blue eyes that shined like glittering pools of topaz.

“You there, remove your shirt.” The boy removed his shirt without hesitation, revealing a tight, lean physique. Alric tentatively reached out and touched the boy’s chest, then moved his hand from the chest down to the boy’s navel, his eyes closed as he released a shuddering breath of exhilaration. Alric pulled his hand away, pausing before opening his eyes.

“Remove your pants.” Once again, the young man complied without protest, used to this kind of work. He kicked off his loose pants and stood there, open, naked, smiling coyly at the emperor’s obvious infatuation. Alric looked at the boy’s penis, surprisingly hung for his age. He reached down and grasped the young man’s plums, lifting them up and down as though he were weighing fruit at a market. The boy gasped, not expecting the emperor’s icy touch. Alric removed his hand, satisfied.

“What is your name?”

“Rorick, your grace.” Alric nodded, absently musing.

“Yes, you’ll do. Come with me.” He looked down the line. “Also… you, and… you.” He said, indicating two of the others. He turned his attention to Corvus, the man standing unabashed and comfortable, always at his majesty’s service. “Take the rest and send them on their way. Make sure that each is given a silver Imperio for their time.” Corvus gave a short, respectful bow, putting his arms out to the side.

“Of course, my Emperor, by your will.” Alric left the room, the 3 men following, Rorick still bare as he sauntered along. Corvus made a note in his booklet, chuckling to himself, then turned to the remaining young men. “If you would follow me, I will escort you out of the palace. You will receive your promised payment once we reach street level.” He walked out of the room, the boys following behind him, and although he kept his hands folded behind his back and his eyes forward, he was well aware of everything going on around him, and not one them dared to steal from the lavish halls under the watchful eyes of the smiling foreigner from the east.

…

General Rilestad hated elevators, he did not trust them. Rising through the heights of the Tower Keep in one of the Geargandian’s magic boxes, he could not help but feel a little on edge at the thought of an endless emptiness beneath his feet, going all the way to the ground… Oh gods. He would have gladly taken the stairs, but the hour grew late, and he did not have time to climb the insurmountable reaches of the manmade mountain. The Tower had taken such an extraordinary amount of stone, that they had mined out an entire range for its construction, laying the ground flat as a valley, a fact that still astonished him to this day. Needless to say, he could not climb that many steps, not if he wanted to reach the palace before the Emperor retired for the evening.

The elevator rumbled along its track, gears audibly clanking and turning, as if counting the seconds that he was in this cramped space. The front the contraption was merely an extending gate, allowing Rilestad to see the side of the shaft as he ascended ever higher, much to his chagrin. The box slowed, shaking as it came to a stop on the last floor, the palace level. Rilestad pulled open the gate, and walked out into the hall, taking a deep breath to collect himself, he would definitely be walking back down. Two guards stood in the short hall, guarding the reinforced, yet beautifully designed, set of doors that led into the main area of the palace. Rilestad walked the length of the hall, the guards opening the doors before he even reached them, knowing full well who he was.

“General.” One the guards dipped his head respectfully. Rilestad paid the man no attention, walking with purpose through the jeweled, decadent halls of gold, crimson silk, and black marble. He knew exactly where he was going, rounding the corner and climbing the stairs to the next level, glorified banners and rich paintings lining the walls, leaving hardly any space exposed. The general had been here before, many times in fact, the layout of the palace ingrained within his mind.

Rilestad came to the door he knew all too well, dark wood, carved with images of the empire’s various landscapes. It had been his father’s door. Rilestad raised his hand to the wood. Now, it was Alric’s. Ignoring the peculiar sounds coming from the room, Rilestad knocked. He waited a few moments, and then knocked again. Before he could remove his hand from the door, it swung inward, Alric standing there, shirtless, with a loose pair of silk pants clearly put on in haste.

“I thought I gave orders not to be distur- Oh, it’s you, what do you want at this hour?” Alric looked at Rilestad with impatient eyes, clearly frustrated at the intrusion. Rilestad gave a slight, almost imperceptible bow, acknowledging Alric’s position.

“Hello, brother.” He looked past Alric into the room, seeing 3 boys lying on the bed, naked, open, two of them kissing, one of them looking at Rilestad seductively. Rilestad looked back to Alric. “I see you have company. I don’t quite care though, I have matters I need to discuss with you, you can get to your… friends, afterward.” Rilestad spoke to Alric with the authority of an older brother, and he was perhaps the only man alive that could get away with it. Alric begrudgingly agreed, closing the door and stepping into the hall.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt my evening, brother?”

“I wanted to speak to you concerning the current campaign.” Alric gave Rilestad a tired look.

“Well, out with it, what about it?”

“I feel that our current approach is too aggressive. Kliin is a good general, yes, but he’s rash, his tactics excessive and extreme. A lot of good people are being hurt, their homes destroyed, entire towns, gone. And what’s more, our soldiers are rounding people up who are not even confirmed Crystal Borne, merely because their second cousin twice removed had an aunt who could light a stove with her fingers? Is this how we are to conduct ourselves? In our own lands?” Rilestad shook his head, Alric just staring apathetically with cold eyes. Rilestad remembered a time when those eyes had seemed warm, but that was a long time ago.

“I am satisfied with Kliin’s progress, despite the unfortunate… collateral damage. As for the people we are gathering, the alchemists of the Euganever Institute suspect related family members of a Crystal Borne could hold potential, even if not immediately visible.” He paused. “Are we done here?” Rilestad did not care for his brother’s careless disregard for the unnecessary damage being wrought by Klinn’s command, but Alric was the emperor, not him, he had refused that title, and now he had to put up with it.

“I just feel, that we could be going about this in better ways.” He sighed. “There needn’t be so much wanton chaos.”

“What would you suggest? That I put you in charge of the campaign?”

“I was not saying that. I am merely asking, as a brother, to think of the people.” Alric was beginning to get agitated.

“Which people, brother? The desert dwellers who showed so much restraint when they murdered our brother? The people of the southward valleys? The ones who, to this day openly reject our rule, despite all the empire has done for them, all that our father, that I have done for them. I am thinking of our people, brother, the people of the north, the trueborn of Melcania. Now. Please. Leave.” Rilestad stood solemn, looking at Alric, feeling defeated.

“My Emperor.” He muttered quietly, turning to leave. Alric watched him go with uncaring eyes, then went back into the room.